longer filled with rain but lightning bolts. I needed to prepare her for Euphoria, but all I could do was stare up and ask the most damning question. A question I’d asked before but still didn’t have a fucking answer.
“Who are you?” My tone had tangled with darkness and desire, weighed down with sand.
Her swollen lips parted, perhaps to give me some cosmic answer delivered by fate’s arrow, or maybe to curse me with an even greater spell. Either way, I wasn’t prepared to listen.
I didn’t have the goddamn strength.
Wrapping my arm around the top of her thighs and clamping a hand on her hip, I dragged her forward. I gave her no room to argue or struggle as my mouth clamped down on an entirely different part of her body.
The moment my tongue touched her clit, the harness creaked with her full weight. She went lax and locked tight all at once. “Ah…God. Sully—no.”
No?
I didn’t understand that word anymore.
No was something you said about inconsequential things.
This?
Tasting her? Tonguing her?
This was not inconsequential.
This was fucking consequential. The biggest consequence of my life.
My tongue drove inside her.
She cried out, swinging in her binds. Wetness welcomed me to dive deeper; her inner muscles clutching around my invasion. Her body flushed with heat as I released her hip and brought my hand between her legs.
While my tongue circled her clit and her desire made her pant, I pressed two fingers inside her. The second her body swelled and settled around my touch, she moaned so guttural and raw, my hips pumped into air.
I couldn’t control the instinctual need to replace my fingers with my cock.
Everything about this girl made me drunk. It made me forget my boundaries. My promises. It made me go rogue with the need to take everything I could. To steal her senses. Her sanity. To make her as tormented as me.
My teeth unsheathed, biting her clit as I rocked my fingers deep. Her hips undulated against my face. I growled as she whimpered, her body releasing another silky wet welcome.
My tongue lavished every part of her. She tasted of citrus and frangipani from her bath that all goddesses had access to before serving in Euphoria. She smelled wild and ripe with need.
I thrust deeper into her, driving my fingers as far as they’d go. My knuckles pressed against her pussy lips. My tongue lashed and teeth teased.
And I broke her into pieces.
Her orgasm swelled and shattered in a single heartbeat. The force of it milked my fingers with tight pressure, rhythmic and primal. The beast inside me wanted to respond. It knew what the bands of muscles and the fading cries of Eleanor’s pleasure meant.
She was at the pinnacle of passion. She’d come, but that only made her more receptive, more open to deeper claiming, harder fucking, rougher connection.
She wasn’t pleasured.
She was primed.
Primed to be mounted and taken.
The thought of removing my fingers from her still pulsing body and removing my tongue from her delicious taste almost kept me locked on my knees, but the feral hunger to thrust my body into hers jerked my hand from between her legs and forced me to scramble upright.
She swayed in her harness. Eyes hazed and nipples hard. A trickle of her release glittered on her inner thigh.
As my hands went to my belt and undid the loop, I made yet another colossal mistake.
The worst one yet.
I allowed our eyes to lock.
I allowed myself to see.
To see the same thing in her that had grown unavoidable in me.
Something that shouldn’t exist. A demon that began in the heart and slowly ate its way through mind, sense, and soul.
Despite everything that I’d done. Despite our roles in each other’s lives…that demon had grown. Mirroring pieces that looked a lot like budding, unfurling, dangerous, treacherous love—
No.
No fucking way.
I backed away.
I tripped.
My phone alarm went off.
Announcing it was time for Eleanor to be fucked by Roy Slater.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I COULDN’T KEEP UP.
Two moments ago, Sully had his tongue between my legs, his touch inside me, and a blistering orgasm—invoked purely by emotion and connection, instead of that cursed elixir—had ricocheted through me.
Now, a stranger stood before me. A man with an unreadable face, black-blue eyes, and an ever blacker mood.
Wrenching the trolley to stop beside me, he opened the boxes he’d used during my first preparation for Euphoria.
My heart cracked as he poured oil into his hands and spread it over my body. Clinical and angry, no lingering over the parts of me that throbbed for